श्रीमंत बाळासाहेब पंतप्रतिनिधी

"The Raja of Aundh"
A short story by G. D. Madgulkar
Translated by Vinaya Bapat.

I had seen the Raja. He was never so pompous  that he would appoint a poet laureate; but if I were the one, I wouldn’t have hesitated to describe him as ‘The great Manu incarnate’. When I saw the Raja for the first time, I was only ten or eleven. The Raja was in the twilight of his life.
Our town was in great excitement because he was to visit us soon. Our town was in his princely state. It was one of the four or five Taluka places of the state. All the dusty roads of our small town were sprinkled with water that day. The scent of wet soil filled the air. The shops in the market were neat and tidy. The narrow market alley was adorned with a few red coloured banners. Bright golden letters shone on them, “Long Live His Highness Bhawanrao Pandit Pratinidhi !”
Courtyards of the houses bordering the road were decorated with rangolis. Citizens thronged the ground in front of the royal residence. Officials were moving about efficiently, readjusting their headgears and stoles. Ladies decked up with kumkum on their foreheads, stood on both sides of the road, waiting for the Raja’s arrival. These ladies belonged to the castes of untouchables - but such discrimination was abolished in his state now, and hence the honour of greeting His Highness was given to them. They were holding brass plates with small lighted lamps.
Every alley that opened in front of the royal court was packed with people eager to see the Raja. Their eyes were shining with excitement and respect for their Raja. Everyone sprang forward as the sound of the trumpet rose high to welcome him. Court officials bent deep down to salute. Raja’s car arrived. The ladies with lamps greeted him from a distance.
I was standing on the open terrace of one of the houses near the royal residence. I was looking down, pressing my chest against the terrace wall. The Raja of Aundh stepped down from his car. Instead of proceeding to the royal palace, he turned back and went towards the line of ladies. He put a rupee or a half in their brass plates. He was the Raja of a state that was not very rich, but his demeanour was that of a Hindu emperor. Every one of these previously untouchable ladies promptly bent forward and bowed to him. He uttered the words, ‘God bless!’ He wasn’t taking the salutes to himself. He was offering them to God.
The Raja made it a point to receive the salutes of the citizens of the deprived class first. He did the same that day and went to the royal palace. He was quite aged; but he walked erect like a flagstaff. While he walked, it appeared as though only his chest was moving forward. His attire was simple; but even his simplicity had a royal elegance. He wore a Brahmin style, red coloured head-gear with a graceful crest. He wore a traditional, old-fashioned silken long coat called barabandi and a narrow bottom trousers with folds. The only British impact on this attire was the western styled boots that he was wearing. Otherwise everything was in pure Maharashtrian style. Anyone who saw him, would feel that His Highness had just alighted from a palanquin. The people who had gathered on the terrace cheered him. He looked up. I could see him. Broad forehead, very big eyes, and a pleasant smile. I was pleased. I had seen the Raja. Those three lines of sandalpaste on his forehead and his big greyish moustaches made quite an impact on my mind. He proceeded to the royal palace, accepting the cheering and salutes. The state-band played the tune,
“May goddess Amba bless the Pratinidhis
With eternal well-being and glory
May goddess Amba bless the Pratinidhis.”
While I listened to the tune, I recalled the history I had learnt about the Pratinidhi dynasty. Triambakpant Kulkarni hailed from Kinhai…. he worshipped goddess Yamai of Aundh. His faith was rewarded by the goddess who herself helped his wife in her delivery. A son was born…. Parshuram Triambak Pant-Pratinidhi. A great warrior born in a Brahmin family…. his bravery…. his poetic genius….
“No one need to be afraid of any evil,
Goddess Amba has endowed us with the destroyer of all evil.”
The tune played on. The Pratinidhis were not daunted by any hazard… The whole of Maharashtra and the dynasty of Pratinidhis had gone through a number of ups and downs. Once the Chhatrapati of Satara, whom the Pratinidhis served, ordered death penalty to Parshurampant….but khando Ballal Chitinis saved him… From that incident, Parshurampant regarded Chitnis as his own father.
Parshurampant II, was equally great… his right hand was dismembered in a battle…. In history, he was known as “Parashurampant, the armless”. His own mother went against him… The Peshwa seized his land and property; but one of his concubines remained loyal to him. For his love, she is known to have faught against the Peshwa and defended the castle. Her name – ‘Tai Telin’ reverberated in a song, describing her bravery, and how she defeated Bapu Gokhale, the commander-in-chief of the Peshwas, in that battle.
Parshurampant II, had no children. He did not want to adopt anyone either; but the British resident and the relatives around him forced him to adopt a son who adorned the throne of Aundh state in future. School students in the state of Aundh used to sing a prayer, praising him just like God.
“Shrinivas, our Master, you have obliged us. We are at your service forever. Please endow us with the strength of intellect and spirit.”
Our Raja of Aungh was the legitimate son of the same Shrinivasrao. That day, I saw him from a distance. I had a wish to see him from close quarters, but it was not fulfilled. Teachers of the state held an assembly during his stay in our town. Presiding over that assembly, he addressed all the teachers, “There is no other donation as great as knowledge or education. Teaching is not just a job for sustenance. It is a great social work.” Even the faces of poorly paid teachers were lit up by his speech.
After the teachers’ assembly, he visited the exhibition organized by the school students. Their artefacts were really worth exhibiting. A clay ball, painted yellow, was exhibited as a guava by a student. Many exhibited idols of deities. Their idea was to make a mould by first immersing the metal idol in wet clay and then pouring liquid paraffin in that mould, which would become solid and look like an idol. Children of weavers had woven colourful cotton strings. Children of carpenters had made different wooden objects using carpentry tools. There were things like pen-holders and even tables and chairs. Some children had kept the objects of paper-pulp and beautiful paper-cuttings. Those who could not do anything of this sort, had displayed their drawings and paintings, in some of which Shivaji was looking like a parrot with a headgear. It was difficult to differentiate between Shivaji and Afjalkhan; as both had similar beards. This child-art did not differentiate much between a cat and a dog. Rabbits, dogs and human beings were of the same height. Brahmin children had exhibited their calligraphic handwriting.
The Raja saw the exhibition. He saw it carefully, with all his heart in it. He gave awards to the skilled students. He blessed the boy who had made a wooden chair, saying he would be an industrialist one day. A boy had exhibited his handwriting of the old Marathi script – Modee. The Raja admired him as a future historian. In the prize-distribution ceremony, he voiced strong optimism. He said, “Our future entrepreneurs will emerge from these students who are exhibiting their artefacts, though they may not seem very refined today.”
The Raja showed equal warmth at the time of the get-together that was arranged by the businessmen. He politely refused to accept flower-garlands offered by them. But he was pleased when a garland made from hand-spun cotton yarn was offered to him. The important tenet he advised the businessmen was, “Do not sell raw material and do not purchase foreign-manufactured goods”. It was difficult to guess what they understood, but the Raja was trying hard to tell them what he wanted to. His voice was very loud. It was as if his words first sprang from within and then came to the lips. So, his voice was a little harsh to the ears. His speeches showed power as well as exhortation. His gaze was equally awe-inspiring and kind at one and the same time. Government officials addressed him as ‘Pant-Saheb’, whereas his citizens, who were not much educated, called him ‘Pant-Baba’.
When Pant-Baba visited a Taluka-place, a wave of enthusiasm swept over the villagers. The Raja never disappointed them. He and his family sometimes visited a farmer’s orchard of pomegranates and sometimes he also went to some rich fellow’s mansion for a banquet. But he did not hesitate to tell frankly to that businessman, “In business, making profit of two annas on a rupee is fair; but to make profit of two rupees on one is not a fair practice”.
If the Brahmin community arranged a religious function, the Raja accepted their invitation with pleasure. And he did not forget to arrange a fellowship function for his muslim citizens on the occasion of Id. He often paid surprise visits to the hutment area where the untouchables lived. But he never uttered the word ‘untouchables’. He made it a point to address them as ‘untouchables of the past’. Their entry in the temples was not prohibited in Aundh State.
The Raja’s stay in our Taluka-place had nearly come to an end when we, the students, received an official invitation from him. He always regarded school students as his near and dear relatives. We filed ourselves in lines and went to the Raja’s residence. He did not appear like a king that day. He treated us with so much affection as though he was an elderly relative. We were given cow milk to our heart’s content. He talked to everyone with lot of concern. He patted on somebody’s back and caressed someone’s chin. One obese boy had a bulging belly. Raja pinched it and asked that boy, almost shouting, “Don’t you do the exercise of namaskaras? How many namaskaras do you do every day?” The boy answered in the negative, and the Raja got an opportunity to talk about his favourite subject. “Our body is the tool of what we want to achieve in our life” – he started with the aphorism in Sanskrit, and went on to convince us about the importance of the exercise of namaskaras. He admonished our teachers, “Pay more attention to body-building rather than brain-building of your pupils”.
During that visit, I did not have the chance to speak to him, but certainly I nurtured a strong wish to listen to him for a long time. I did not share my feelings with anybody; but it persisted with me. The Raja’s stay was over. He went back.
The stories of his magnanimity kept circulating for many days thereafter. Aundh state consisted of seventy two villages. The annual tax collection of the state was not more than four and a half lac. But the Raja was extremely proud of his land. He had tremendous love for the illiterate population of his state.
Three-four years after this first meeting with the Raja, an incident took place in another Taluka-place. I was staying in the same village, where the Raja had come to stay. It was a small village. There was a mango grove on the outskirts of the village. Raja was staying in a small bungalow in the mango grove.
One morning, an old lady came to the gate. The Raja was busy in his daily morning routine. The daily regime of namaskaras, bath and worship was over. His Highness was standing on a wooden platform, in the courtyard of the bungalow. He was erect as a statue. He had closed his palms together. His chin was lifted up. His eyes were steady and eyelashes were open. His gaze was focussed on the sun rising in the sky. The sweet scent of the mango blossom filled the air and he was availing himself of the exercise of sun-gazing. Suddenly, this quiet spell of meditation was broken by a noise. The sentries on the gate were trying to stop an old lady. The lady, who was ignorant about the norms and etiquette of the court, was repeatedly urging the sentries, “Let me see my Raja; I want to see him”. The Raja realized that is was a desperate plea. He shouted from the place he was standing, “Who’s there?”
The gate guard came running and said; stammering, “There’s a lady who wants to see you”.
“Let her come inside,” He said and the guards obeyed. The lady was an uncouth villager. Suddenly she came forward and touched his feet. Actually the Raja was in the holy attire for the religious rites, when nobody was supposed to touch him. But he did not mind when the rustic lady touched him. Just like a father would ask a daughter, he asked her, “Lady, please tell me what is the matter. What do you want?”
The lady told him; sobbing, “Your Highness, one of your officers has already taken bribe from me. Now he is asking for more. I don’t have a single rupee. How can I pay him? He is not ready to do my work unless I pay.”
“Tell me his name,” The Raja thundered.
The lady started trembling. She became speechless. With great hesitation, she stammered the name of the officer. The Raja consoled her and gave orders to his private secretary to look into the matter urgently.
In the afternoon, that corrupt officer came to see the Raja. When he bent down to touch the Raja’s feet, he received a blow of the staff on his head instead of the Raja’s blessings. He felt dizzy and saw the stars before his eyes.
“Idiot” – The Raja shouted, “Do you ask for bribe from my children? Leave my state this moment and don’t show your face again.”
The officer left the state. He had to. He continued to write foul things about the Raja in the newspapers of Pune. But the Raja paid no attention to that. He did not care about such rubbish. “King’s first duty is towards his citizens” – was the tenet he firmly believed in. When I heard this story about the Raja’s magnanimity, I began to worship him. I wished to remain in his contact more often. It was not impossible for any citizen of the state to approach him. But it was not easy to deserve his favour. He was kind, but not naive. He hated lies. And he could not tolerate slavishness. He knew how to discern impurities in gold. I had no sterling quality for which he should favour me, and still, that dream grew stronger and stronger in my mind. The only way to reach him was my ancestral poverty. I did reach in his vicinity using it as my weapon.
I came to Aundh, the capital of the Raja’s state, for my high school education. The Raja’s capital town was quite befitting to him. Small but graceful. That small town could boast of having a high school. There was also an institute called ‘Triambak Kala Bhuvan’ for imparting vocational training. Some veteran vocalists like Anant Manohar Joshi were under his patronage; who ran a school for Indian classical music. The Raja, for himself, was an avid lover of art and painting. Art and painting was a compulsory subject in the schools of Aundh state. The Raja was also religious minded. The ancient tradition of ‘Keertan’ – a musical narration of religious stories – was the subject of his deep faith. He had patronized great religious preachers (keertankars) of Maharashtra for this purpose, and made arrangements for their training.
Raja’s palace was not ostentatious. It was predominantly an abode of Goddess Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and art, rather than that of Laxmi, the goddess of wealth. The main courtyard of the royal palace exhibited the statues that symbolized six seasons. At the back of the palace, was located the workshop of the sculptors. A hall on the first floor of the palace was named ‘Ajantha Hall’, as it displayed exact replicas of the paintings of Ajantha. The Raja’s bed-chamber was decorated by the paintings of the mythical stories of Nal-Damayanti. Another chamber was adorned by the paintings of Gaja-Gauri. The palace housed the art works of a number of eminent artists of India; among these were ‘Ram-Panchayatan’ by Bhiva Sutar and ‘Tandav-Nritya’ by Kotyalkar. The Raja was well-educated. He was a graduate from Deccan College. His rich collection of books as well as musical instruments proved his connoisseurship. He had equal respect for all arts. His love of arts was not the sign of his vanity. He was well aware of the responsibility of artists in society. Very renowned classical vocalists performed in the temple of Karhad Devi, some of them; in the form of ‘Keertan’. The artists were contributing to cultural enhancement. The Raja believed in God. He believed in religion. He had great love for Sanskrit literature. All these passions of the Raja were manifested in his palace.
I was enrolled in Aundh High School. For me, education was free, and food was also free. I received Raja’s patronage, but I had not yet received his personal attention. Actually, it was not very difficult for a student of Aundh Highschool to attract his attention, as the Raja always showed great concern for educational institutions. He genuinely cared for the school students. He was more concerned with their future rather than the past and the present. He gave many facilities to the students of his state. Primary education was free for all. The fees for middle school were just two annas.
The state of Aundh offered free boarding for school students, on very nominal rent. It was only six annas a month. The hostel where I lived was named “Panchavati”. We had our meals free. The Raja used to keep watch on the quality of food that was served for the students. He was as keen about it as he was about the food that was offered to Goddess Jagadamba. Along with all such facilities, the Raja was also keen that the students should not come under any bad influence. Not a cup of tea was available in the town of Aundh. Not a single cinema-house was there. Sometimes, he arranged film-shows for the students. These were arranged in the temple of Goddess Jagadamba. These films were mostly based on science. The shows were specially arranged for the children of the royal family as well as the school students. The video shootings of Raja’s travels were also shown to us in the temple of Goddess Jagadamba. The Raja had bought all the equipment for movie shooting and trained the staff that was necessary for the purpose.
Once, the Raja visited our school. This visit was quite unexpected and unscheduled. The school-principal thought the visit must be for judging the progress of technical training or religious education. Even in those days, we had subjects like hand-spinning, tailoring, sculpture and farming in our syllabus. Our teachers always looked down upon them as a fad. But there was no appeal against the Raja’s insistence. The Raja who had come without any notice, came straight to our class. I was in the sixth grade of the high school at that time. When the Raja came, we stood up, a bit flabbergasted. He stood in front of a student and asked in a very gentle manner,
“What is your first period?”
“For the exercise of namaskaras,” the boy answered.
“Very good. What is the second?” – Raja asked.
“Recitation of the Geeta.”
“Which tenet from the Geeta do you like the most?”
“The one which says, ‘Do your duty without expecting returns.’”
These answers were well rehearsed. The students knew the questions and knew what answers would be appreciated by the Raja. The Raja was also aware of this. That day, he asked a different question to one of the students.
“What would you like to be in future?”
The boy was taken aback by this question. He could not answer. Then the Raja began to hurl the same question at every student. Our class teacher started sweating. One boy mustered courage and said,
“I will be a collector.” The Raja was not pleased.
Another boy said, “I’ll be a civil judge.”
The Raja frowned. Nobody could guess what sort of answer would satisfy him.
“And what would you like to be?” Raja asked another boy.
“I’ll start my own workshop for manufacturing bangles.”
This answer lit up the Raja’s face.
“What’s your name?”
“Dnyanu Vithu Kasar.”
“Very good, my boy”, The Raja patted on his shoulder and said, “Come to me after you pass your matriculation exam. I’ll give you the capital to start your workshop.
The Raja left our class after giving promise to the son of the bangle-vendor. I didn’t get the turn to answer the Raja’s question. Even I would have given a similar answer and got money from him. He had helped many people with initial capital. That’s why, that small state had industries like Kirloskar Iron Works and Ogale Glass Works. Both industries were thriving very fast. ‘Washex’ and ‘Glycerine’ soaps had established their name in the market. Incense sticks of Aundh were famous. ‘Shriniwas Metal Works’ had also earned brand value in the market. The Raja had a dream that his small state should be an industrial town and he was ready to do everything desirable to that end.
I had missed even this opportunity to catch the Raja’s attention. I saw him many times. I saw him from close quarters. I listened to his speeches. I visited his palace. I was even acquainted with some princes in the palace. But I always missed the chance to earn his favour.
Students of the free boarding would be invited to the Raja’s palace on festive occasions. I remember one such occasion when we were seated for our meals in the Raja’s palace. Food was being served. We felt a little nervous in that ambience. The Raja entered the hall to take part in the prayers before meals as was the custom. He glanced at us with his big eyes and suddenly he shouted at the steward “Let the children be seated with me in the inner chamber”.
The staff was scared. We sprang to our feet at once. We went inside and the people who were supposed to have their meal in the Raja’s company were asked to sit outside. It was only after some time that we realised why he wanted this change. There were sweets in our plates, whereas only plain chapatis were served in the plates outside where we were sitting earlier. The Raja had not approved of this discrimination. He had not uttered a harsh word, but just said in his commanding voice, “From now, our children will be with us for their meals”. His private staff nodded obediently. So, we got the privilege of the Raja’s company and the people who were the regular members of the royal meals were disappointed.
Dining along with the Raja, we started getting a variety of sweets now, but that did not suit us, as we had to answer his questions which we found quite tough. The Raja would recite some Sanskrit verse and we were asked to explain its meaning. The boy who was asked to explain, used to get nervous and could not eat freely. Afterwards, the Raja put up a blackboard in the dining hall. A Sanskrit verse would be written on it and the Raja would explain it himself. As a result, the boys began to call the place a ‘dining school’ instead of a ‘dining hall’. But even here, my desire to win the Raja’s favour remained unfulfilled. That opportunity came to my door at the time of the Ganesh festival. Ganesh festival was celebrated with great enthusiasm in a special pendal erected in the premises of Jagadamba temple. A number of plays, dance programmes and entertainment events were presented there. We, the students of the sixth grade performed a play ‘Gurudakshina’ by P. K. Atre – a noted Marathi playwright. I played a comic character – ‘Vakradanta’ – in that play. The Raja saw the play. While watching the scene of Vakradanta and his friends, he laughed heartily like a child and even clapped in appreciation. Finally, my dream of winning his acclaim had materialised.
The festival was over. The Raja was in chair for the prize distribution ceremony. We had got a prior intimation that he was going to give some special prizes on his behalf besides the usual school prizes. I was sure to get one for my performance. I was all ears when the names of the special prize winners were being announced. ‘Gokhale’ was the first name announced. He had acted the role of ‘Sudama’ – Shrikrishna’s friend who was poor, ill-fed and therefore very thin. That boy was really a weakling. The Raja observed him with his big eyes. That puny boy – ‘Gokhale’ – received the prize. Raja said to him, seriously, ‘My child, this is your prize for good acting. Your acting was good, but…..’ Gokhale was terrified because of the last word ‘but’. We listened anxiously. The Raja said, “I am sad that a frail boy fit to play ‘Sudama’ should be found in my state of Aundh. Next year you should play ‘Balaram’ – Shrikrishna’s strong elder brother – in the same play.” Nobody clapped. ‘Sudama’ returned to his place, quite nervous and sweaty. The Raja was known to be a lover of body building. So, we thought that the second special prize would certainly go to the boy who had played ‘Balaram’; but that was not the case. The teacher who was reading the list, announced my name! That was the moment of my dream fulfilment, for which I had waited so long….. I sprang to my feet and the Raja broke into a fit of laughter. Surely, he remembered my role in the play. When I approached, he awarded the prize to me and patted me on the back in great appreciation. Like a victorious wrestler, who is held by the arm and shown around the wrestling arena, the Raja held my arm and said to the people, “this boy will create mountains of laughter. My boy, you go to the ‘taki’. Don’t bother about formal education”. When the Raja used the word ‘taki’, it meant ‘talkies’. He had a trait to pronounce some English words, with local Marathi influence. He did it intentionally.
Following his advice, I did not hanker much after formal education; instead, I tried my luck in the talkies. During all this period, the Raja was administering many developments in his state. Eight years before India got independence, the Raja gave independence to his citizens. He declared elections in the state. The people of Aundh went into raptures. One of the Raja’s son had become barrister and returned from abroad. He was a follower of his father’s footsteps. Citizens of Aundh elected him as the Prime Minister of the princely state.
The Raja had prepared the Constitution of the newly independent state, in consultation with none other than Mahatma Gandhi. During these four-five years, I didn’t have the privilege of seeing the Raja, as I was staying in the state of Kolhapur. And I could see the difference between the two states.
Once, when I was in Kolhapur, I was walking along the Mahadwar Road, towards the temple of Goddess Jagadamba. Suddenly, a car stopped by my side. I turned around and saw the ‘Raja of Aundh’! I still remembered his words. I had not forgotten how he had favoured me. I was obliged to him for my free education. I sincerely wished to touch his feet, but before I could do so, he opened the car-door and patted me on the shoulder. He had not forgotten me. He said, “My boy, we hear about your progress. It gives us immense pleasure. Make the name of our state proud, Goddess Jagadamba will bless you with a long life”.
The Raja left in his car. I kept following the path he had shown me; and I made considerable progress.
In the freedom struggle of nineteen forty-two, the revolutionaries of Satara state got asylum in the state of Aundh. The Raja of Aundh never favoured the British Raj. His loyalty was always with the great Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. For his own ‘Keertan’, the musical narrations, he always chose episodes from Shivaji’s life. He always preached self-reliance to the people. And he was a passionate proponent of exercise and body-building. The Raja never wore foreign clothes. He never used any foreign goods. Once, when he was denouncing the use of foreign goods in a public meeting, an educated listener hurled a question at him,
“Excuse me, Your Highness; how do you justify your foreign car?”
Raja, who was a good speaker, faltered at that moment. His eyes were moist. His words came soft. He answered that citizen, “My state is spread out far and wide-from Solapur to Vijapur. If I don’t have a speedy vehicle, it will not be possible for me to visit each village in my state. I will not be able to reach out to my citizens. I am using this foreign car out of helplessness. We are unable to manufacture industrial machinary and medicines. May God bless us with long life so that we can see our country self-sufficient even in this respect.”
Our nation got independence in nineteen forty seven. It was a ‘dream come true’ for the Raja. There were celebrations all over the state of Aundh. Within the next two years his state was merged with the Republic of India. The Raja witnessed the change like an ascetic, with genuine satisfaction. He had been dreaming of this elysium for a long time. He had made positive efforts for its creation.
I was in Pune at that time. The Raja of Aundh, now only nominal, had also come to Pune. He was staying in his old bungalow. I went to meet him. I was a bit shocked when I saw him. He was looking very old now.
“Please come in….” He welcomed me. He talked to me on a number of subjects. He talked freely as if I was his family member. He was well-informed about everyone who had earlier stayed in the state of Aundh. He also knew what I was doing and how well I was doing. “I wonder why good films on Shivaji’s life are not produced?’ – He said.
“One must have one’s own film-company for that,” I said.
“How much will it cost?”
I told him the approximate amount. The Raja became grave. He did not say anything. I could see what he was thinking. He must be thinking, “I supported a number of ventures in my state, but I cannot help this person. Because I am not a Raja anymore.” He didn’t talk on that subject again. He talked about me. He had liked my film ‘Ramjoshi’ very much. He had genuine interest in the local art-forms like ‘keertan’, ‘lavani’, ‘tamasha’ and plays. He pointed out a mistake in my script of ‘Ramjoshi’. He said, “In the later period of the Peshwa regime, it was not the girls, but the boys who used to dance in ‘tamasha’. And if you ask me, boys look better in ‘tamasha’.
Then I invited Raja for the screening of my film. He happily acceeded to my invitation. The movie was mythological. The Raja was a lover of Indian mythology and Sanskrit literature. The ‘Ramayan’ and the ‘Mahabharat’ were his favourite epics. This movie was also based on the ‘Ramayan’. The Raja liked every aspect of it – its atmosphere, plot, the poetic element, and everything about it. I don’t know whether he liked it because of its intrinsic value or because it was written by me who was his citizen. When the movie was over, he held me close to his chest. He said, emotionally, “My child, you have really made our state proud!”
The Raja had left his rule; but his love for the land of Aundh and admiration for its citizens still surged high in his large bosom.
The last time I met the Raja was on the day of Sankranti. I went to his bungalow in Pune. He was glad to see me. But he looked very feeble, and also a little worried.
I touched his feet and saluted. “God bless!” The Raja said. Somebody came in. He was the Raja’s close relation, father-in-law of one of his sons. The Raja introduced me to him even before asking him to have a seat. He said, “This is our boy; a young lad in the school of Aundh. So grown up now… and he has earned great name. He was staying in our boarding. He has had the luck to eat the meals blessed by Goddess Jagadamba and he remembers that.”
The guest nodded to respect the Raja’s words. The Raja was silent. He said after a long time, “All calculations don’t turn out correct. Some go wrong”. The guest did not understand what he was talking about. The Raja’s aspirations regarding some of the princes and princesses were not duly fulfilled. Deep down, he had an untold anguish.
When I took his leave, he said words which were more like a monologue,
“I feel content when I meet boys like you. I am not a ‘Raja’ now, but still I am a father…. looking forward to seeing my children….”
I could hardly control my tears. I left his bungalow, not looking up.
That was the last time I met him. The Raja of Aundh joined the majority. The last one in the tradition of great Indian kings like Manu.
Recently, my film – ‘Do Aankhe Barah Haath’ (‘Two Eyes and Twelve Hands’) earned the President’s gold medal. I had got the germ of that story when I was in the state of Aundh. Actually, it was the Raja of Aundh who had pioneered that incredible experiment. He had followed the advice of a Polish youth called Morris Freedman. He experimented with the idea of keeping criminals, not in the cells of prison, but in open settlements. That institute still functions in some measure even now. It is near the town where I live. The inmates, some of them even murderers had told me, “The Raja took us to the temple of Goddess Jagadamba and freed us of our shackles. He asked us to take a vow!” I had utilised the very concept of the ‘awe of God’ in my film. It was the Raja’s contribution to my work. He had inspired me though after his death.
I received a letter of congratulations after the success of this film, from Sikkim. It was from the eldest son of the Raja of Aundh. Barister Appasaheb Panta Pratinidhi had written, “Do accept my congratulations and my great admiration! This experiment of giving human treatment to the criminals was turned into reality by my father at the behest of one of my friends. I wish father was alive today…..”
I couldn’t read further. The tears trickled down for a long time.